Frost Wyrm Saga 3
Frost Wyrm Saga 3 is an encounter in The Savage North. It comes after Frost Wyrm Saga 2 or Frost Wyrm Saga 4. Enemies Transcript Introduction "In the midst of their plight, when many of their warriors were seething at their defeat and mumbling that they'd leave to find a worthier tribe, the Frost Wyrm Clan's most trusted shamans spread word of a vision they'd received." Rakshara nods. "I've heard that in this land the future is read in runes, as my people read it in crystal." "Yes. Hands behind your back, remember." "Ah, yes..." She does as instructed, moving her seemingly empty hands behind her body. There's a clanking noise. Then the two of your continue down the path. "The shamans spoke of a prophecy. They claimed that a blue dragon -- the symbol of their clan -- would one day come and lead them to victory over their enemies. It would restore their lost power, and raise them up above all the other tribes of Nordent. A convenient story, and the other tribes paid it no heed. To them it was just a way for the Frost Wyrms to give their people hope. But the shamans must have been convincing, because the tribe remained intact." "The ones who was being chased... He said 'the blue wyrm watches'." "Yes. That oath, sometimes a war cry, began back then. It meant that they should prove themselves worth in battle and in everything else they did, because their future savior would be watching." "Damn you, royal dog!" You suppress a smile at the oroc's delivery. She's no thespian. But you doubt the people now in earshot up ahead will be used to hearing her kind of accent. Its unfamiliarity should conceal her poor acting... The Nords rise from the snow where they've been lounging. Some of them wear only loincloths or light leather trousers, yet their hardy northern buttocks seem untroubled by the frosty whiteness in which they're now imprinted. These Bold Wolves have placed a lot of their people in this valley. You doubt they know about the dragons' tunnels. Thus there must be passes hidden among the mountains -- other ways for southerners to trespass beyond Crenus' encampments and patrols. The though occurs to your mind in one moment then leaves it the next. You have more immediate concerns to occupy you... The Nords' movements are wary. Their weapons are in their hands. But they seem curious rather than hostile. Surely a good sign... One of their number, an elderly man whose white beard, flowing robes, and staff scream 'shaman', steps forward. "Hail Crenus!" you say. "You're a long way from your camp." "I was chasing this escaped prisoner. Caught her, but lost my way. All this country looks the same to me." A few of the warriors behind the shaman laugh. "If you could point me to where my comrades are..." you continue. The shaman's thick eyebrows descend at the middle, making them resemble a child's drawing of a flying bird. "You're wearing the gold dragon..." "Of course I am!" "...but it's an illusion!" The shaman reaches out with his staff. Its gnarled end taps against your chest. The gold dragon and purple cloth around it both ripple like the surface of a disturbed pond. The other Nords raise their weapons. "We ran out of uniforms," you say. "Hard to find tailors up in these parts when they get ripped up in battle, so we've started using illusions instead. You should see the cavalry. Half the bastards are really riding pigs..." The shaman seems unconvinced. A couple of Nords move to flank you. You shrug your shoulders. "And that's not the best illusion either..." Rakshara's arms emerge from behind her back. Her left sweeps through the air as though delivering a backhand. But the Nord unfortunate enough to be in its path is smashed aside without her limb even touching him. An orange crystal shield materializes a moment later -- though not before a bloody wound appears over another warrior's heart. It's filled with the oroc's steel sword in the same instant. Arrows and spells sly from the trees on your left, an eclectic volley of bright colors and wooden shafts -- all of them equally unforgiving. Conclusion “We should have kept a few royal tabards,” you say. “It would have made things a lot easier for us here.” “You usually butcher your enemies too thoroughly for their clothing to be useful,” Brachus says. You wince at the reminder. Brutal, impressive kills… A way for your deeds to be remembered… “But the stratagem has merit. In my own realm I once slew a great fiend, then wore his hollowed-out carcass as a disguise to enter his ally’s keep.” “That’s disgusting!” Tessa says. “Oh, what I did with his innards was far worse...” Category:The Savage North